


Leather Kink

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Dirty Talk, Dirty Talk, Handsome Jack's yaoi hands, Leather Kink, Leather gloves, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rhys is Handsome Jack's Personal Assistant, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, it's only bad because I'm so bad at it though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Rhys tears his gaze away before it is too late, a slight blush spreading on his cheeks as he thinks about everything and anything unsexy to stifle the dirty thoughts in the bud. Whatever reason Jack had to wear the unusual outfit to work that day, it definitely wasn’t for Rhys to ogle. Although, what other logical reason might the CEO have to wear an old leather jacket, worn jeans and a pair of seemingly brand new leather gloves? And – Rhys can’t resist and takes a peek – his old boots, reaching all the way up to the middle of his calves.*-*-*-*Rhys has a kink, Jack has a kink, I have a kink, BOOM, there is a fic.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Leather Kink

**Author's Note:**

> Me writing the fic: Haha, Rhys has a kink! 🤣  
> Me editing the fic: ... Maybe **I** have a kink. 😐

Like every day, Rhys is already in the office when Jack arrives. He looks up from his computer to see whether Jack is carrying a coffee, or he will be tasked to bring him one, but freezes when he sees the hand holding the disposable cup. Something hot and sticky lazily spreads in his abdomen, arousal stirring in his pants like a sleepy but vicious demon.

Rhys tears his gaze away before it is too late, a slight blush spreading on his cheeks as he thinks about everything and anything unsexy to stifle the dirty thoughts in the bud. Whatever reason Jack had to wear the unusual outfit to work that day, it definitely wasn’t for Rhys to ogle. Although, what other logical reason might the CEO have to wear an old leather jacket, worn jeans and a pair of seemingly brand new leather gloves? And – Rhys can’t resist and takes a peek – his old boots, reaching all the way up to the middle of his calves.

Trying to focus on work, Rhys almost manages to get the image of Jack’s – already almost pornographic in their nature – large hands out of his mind, the blush receding and the situation in his pants and his belly calming down as he reads the same long number in the report before him over and over. He focuses on the task so hard that when those two leather-clad hands suddenly appear on his desk on either side of him, wide, muscular chest leaning into his back and hot breath tickling his ear, he yelps.

Jack chuckles, the sound in no way his usual sharp laugh but the one that Rhys only hears during their trysts. “You seem distracted, Pumpkin,” the CEO murmurs into his ear, amusement as well as something else clouding his voice, making it even deeper. One hundred percent lethal for Rhys’ brain functions.

“I...” he says, not really sure what he is trying to say as his eyes remain fixed on the hands currently gripping the edge of his desk, flexing and straining against the leather enveloping them. His mouth is suddenly dry, a lump stuck in his throat that has nothing to do with fear of the CEO.

“You...?” the boss asks, continuing to tease him. One of his hands picks up Rhys’ stylus, using it to mindlessly scroll through the document on his screen. The PA’s eyes follow the movement like under a spell.

“I’m... I’m trying to w-work, sir...” the younger man finally manages to say, tearing his gaze away and fixing it in his lap. There is a slight bulge, his hardening penis already tenting the constricting fabric of his slacks. He tries to will it to go away again, taking a shaky deep breath.

“Hmm,” the CEO hums thoughtfully, giving Rhys hope that the torture will be soon over. He didn’t even think that Jack noticed his staring, but there is no other explanation for this. “Nope, doesn’t look like that to me,” he decides, his hands moving onto the PA’s shoulders.

“Sir...” Rhys sighs, and it is half a whine, because he knows that the CEO is playing with him.

Jack shifts behind him, leaning closer again until his lips are resting on Rhys’ right ear, hot and wet. “You know how this looks like to me?” he whispers suggestively, one hand trailing down the younger man’s chest, fingers splaying on his lower belly. “It looks like you are horny.”

Rhys whines, his cheeks turning the shade of tomatoes. It’s _unfair_ , and he would voice his complaints if he wasn’t too focused on watching the other hand follow the same path, teasing a nipple through the shirt on the way.

“C’mon, Rhysie,” Jack says a little bit more urgently. “Wouldn’t it be much easier to focus if we got rid of this?” his hand slides almost all the way down to his crotch, _almost_ , and Rhys groans in frustration.

“Alright,” he allows it, intending to also tell Jack that he’s not to complain when the reports are late, and maybe also that this is all his fault in the first place, so he has no right to tease Rhys about this later, but as soon as the first word is out, Jack’s hand grips his crotch none too gently and he groans again.

“That’s a good boy,” Jack praises, sounding surprisingly flustered himself. Something about their situation is definitely doing it for him.

Knowing that he is not the only one driven by lust, and that having some morning sex was apparently Jack’s plan, Rhys relaxes into it, tentatively moving his hips against the hand between his legs. A gasp escapes his parted lips, his skin growing hot under the shirt collar. It doesn’t even feel that good, his pants too tight and Jack’s hand too clumsy in that position, but honestly, that is a part of the spell. Thick fingers pressing up against his balls, the heel of Jack’s palm pressing down almost too tightly, making him hiss in pain and pleasure.

When Jack’s other hand seeks the space between Rhys’ shirt buttons and two fingers slip inside, teasing his skin with the leather, he loses all restraints, buckling his lips and cursing. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“That’s the idea, babe,” the older man chuckles behind him.

Rhys doesn’t have time for these games. He wants the hands all over him already, wants his own clothes off and Jack’s preferably to stay on while he fucks him. “Where?” he asks, letting a dose of desperation slip into his voice.

“On my desk, darling,” the CEO orders gently before pressing a parting kiss to the top of Rhys’ head and pulling away. He is clearly pleased with the mess he’s already made of the PA, and Rhys is not above taking advantage of that. As soon as he gets out of his chair, he turns around, grips the lapels of Jack’s jacket and pulls him forward into a hungry kiss. He doesn’t get to indulge himself in lot of those, as besides their professional relationship and the occasional sex, Jack and him aren’t partners. But right now, he can do anything, and he moans into the CEO’s mouth at the mere idea of what’s to come.

The short trip to the other desk in the room is full of teeth, gasps and not nearly enough breathing, but neither of them cares, panting against each other when Rhys’ backside finally hits the edge of the desk, hands already working on his tie. Jack helps by undoing the buckle of his pants, but not the button yet. As soon as the top three buttons of his shirt are undone, Rhys feels the belt wrapping around his neck, the leather creaking slightly as Jack pulls at it.

It must be Mercenary Day. Or Jack had learned to read his mind. Or, more believably, this is all just a good old wet dream. Either way, it is _perfect._ He whimpers when the leather tightens even more, the buckle digging into his throat for a second before Jack releases the hold.

Two sets of impatient hands remove the rest of Rhys’ clothing in record time, and then he is being turned over, pushed face-down on the desk. A boot nudges his ankles further apart, the denim of Jack’s jeans rough against his ass when the CEO leans forward to bite at his earlobe.

“Say kiddo,” he murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down Rhys’ spine, “ever wanted to be fucked by a Vault Hunter?”

“O-oh,” Rhys moans in understanding, closing his eyes and letting the full implications get to him. These are the clothes that Jack wore during his vault hunting days. He knew that it was an old outfit but didn’t recognise it. So, this is what Jack is getting out of this, the reason why he is spoiling the PA and indulging the most shameful of his kinks.

“I’ll need you to speak up, Cupcake,” Jack teases him by grinding against his ass, his erection hard and hot underneath the thick denim.

Rhys knows what is expected of him, and he is pretty sure he can do that. “Y-yes, sir, _please_ ,” he sighs, arching his back to feel even more of Jack. “Who wouldn’t want to be fucked by the Hero of Pandora himself?”

The sound that comes out of Jack is either a groan or straight out growl, and he pins the PA to the desk roughly, hips moving and grinding mindlessly for a minute, chasing the delicious friction against the younger man’s plump ass. When he pulls away, slowly and reluctantly, to retrieve the lube from the desk drawer, he makes sure to keep one hand on the small of Rhys’ back, holding him in place and stopping him from grinding back, teasing the CEO.

Rhys gasps when lube dribbles haphazardly between his ass cheeks, a little cold for his liking and a little too much, trailing down his perineum and balls, some of it even dripping to the floor. He pointedly refuses to think about who will be asked to clean up the mess later, instead listens closely to Jack’s movements, hoping that he is not taking the leather gloves off for the prep.

When something unusually smooth and cold dips between his buttocks, scooping up the lube and pushing it into his hole, he has trouble swallowing his words of gratitude, almost granting Jack the pleasure of thanking him for indulging the PA. He distracts himself by imagining how it looks, Jack’s fingers in the brown leather, glistening with slickness, stretching him open, the undoubtedly expensive material being ruined for the sake of their kinky fun. He pushes his hips back as much as the hand on his back allows him, wanting to feel more of it, wanting to feel the seams of the glove catching on his rim, feel as its inflexibility makes Jack’s movements just a little bit stiffer, less controlled, as he has to fight not only against the tightness of Rhys’ hole but also his own garment.

“I’m not gonna last,” Rhys thinks, only after Jack laughs realising that he said that out loud.

“You like this, huh?” the CEO teases, pushing another finger in before Rhys can answer.

It is too soon and Rhys groans, clenching down on the intrusion. He doesn’t mind it though, and Jack is not deterred, continuing to push forward until both his fingers are knuckle deep. They are always a little rough when they mess around; it’s how they both like it. Jack scissors his finger as he slowly pulls them out, stretching Rhys even more, and the PA’s knees give out with one last quiver, only the desk and Jack’s hand holding him up.

“ _Fuck!_ ” he cries out, head thumping against the desk and teeth clamping down on his lip as he struggles not to come. He feels a little ashamed for how fast Jack worked him up, but the CEO is playing dirty today.

“Try not to come before I’ve got my dick in ya, sweet cheeks,” the older man mocks, his voice smug.

When he trusts his voice not to fail him, Rhys speaks up, using some of his own dirty tricks. “Sorry, sir! It’s hard to hold back when my dream is coming true and my _hero_ is about to fuck me...” he whines, turning his head to the side and giving his boss a miserable look, all puppy eyes and pouting lips.

Honestly, it is a cheap trick and Jack should be embarrassed that it has such an effect o him. He growls again, his lips twisting into a snarl as he plunges three fingers into the younger man’s ass, not giving him any time to get used to them before he is spreading them and pulling them out.

“Aaaah!” Rhys lets out a high-pitched moan, almost regretting spurring Jack on. _Almost._

“Yesss,” he sighs. “Fuck me like a hero, _sir._ I want a true Vault Hunter to destroy my ass. _Please!_ Ruin me for everyone else, I want to remember this night forever!” Night? Doesn’t matter. Neither one of them notices.

“Son of a—!” Jack swears, pulling his fighters out and grabbing the lube bottle again to lube himself up. “You little minx. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.”

“Fine by me, I only need yours,” Rhys replies, somehow finding it in himself to be cheeky in his situation. He knows he won’t be able to sit down for a week after this but he doesn’t mind, not right now.

“Fuck, Rhysie,” the CEO groans against his shoulder, peppering kisses along his spine, sloppy and uncoordinated. “I hope you’re ready for me, ‘cause I can’t wait any longer.” It is as much of a warning as it is a question, and Rhys nods his head quickly, mouth too busy moaning as he feels the tip of the CEO’s cock finally pushing inside.

Soon after the head slips in, Jack bottoms out in two hard thrusts, making Rhys scream. The PA grips the edge of the desk for support, but his weak hold doesn’t help him much and each following thrust pushes him forward anyway, only for him to be pulled back by his hips right after. Even with his breath being punched out of him each time, he manages to moan and scream as his boss fucks him brutally and restlessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Rhys has enough brain power to fixate on the feel of rough denim on his thighs, and the leather jacket on his back, and Jack’s hands on his hips, and all of the sensations push him to his release so fast it’s almost unsatisfying.

Rhys clenches down, crying out for the last time as he spills all over the desk. Jack doesn’t give him even a second to come down, continuing to pound him like the last piece of ass in the entire universe. With gritted teeth, the poor PA suffers through the oversensitivity and pain until it begins to feel good again, even though he can’t get hard so soon.

When Jack finally comes, growling some nonsense about the reward for his heroic acts that Rhys ignores in favour of not laughing and ending up airlocked, he collapses on top of the younger man, crushing him under his weight in a way that Rhys pretty much enjoys more than the sex. He can feel Jack’s release dripping down his thighs and his jacket pressing into his back, and even the scent of leather, gunpowder and Jack’s cologne enveloping him like a warm blanket.

Several minutes later, when they both catch their breaths and ride out the afterglow, Rhys feels a hand tugging at the belt on his neck, pulling it tighter. He gasps, shivering, and Jack laughs above him.

“Your weird kinks,” he scoffs. “You’re a little freak, Rhysie.”

“Sh’up,” the PA grumbles, tugging the belt loose. “I’m not the one who gets off on having his ego stroked.”

“Aren’t you, though?” Jack chuckles, standing up before Rhys can blindly whip him with the belt.

Rhys, wisely, keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to be reminded of the late night when he had Jack basically worshipping his body, sucking his cock until he came two times and whispering praise into his ear while he desperately rutted against the older man’s thigh, coming for the third time when he was called the CEO’s _special boy_.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [my NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting) and [Tumblr](https://lostelfwriting.tumblr.com/).


End file.
